


Buchou in Red

by Whisper132



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-06
Updated: 2005-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very Atobe Christmas, in which there is much fluff, a billiards competition, more fluff, and a mistletoe garnish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
Red was Atobe’s color. Everything was Atobe’s color, but red especially. He thought it brought out his eyes and highlighted the subtle shades of his hair. Everyone else on Hyotei thought red made Atobe look fat, but they’d be damned if they let him know that. So, red being Atobe’s color and the Christmas season rapidly approaching, Atobe did the only thing a respectable captain-to-be could do: he held a Christmas party in honor of himself.

“Kabaji, hang those streamers a little more to the left.” Atobe sat on his couch, dressed in red velvet Santa pants and a white t-shirt. It was too hot in the climate controlled mansion to don his Santa coat just yet. “No, the left Kabaji, the left. Does ore-sama have to draw directions on your hand again?”

Kabaji stopped, three strands of silver garland twined around his muscled arm, and stared at Atobe. He said nothing, just looked at Atobe with calf-calm eyes. “Uhs,” he replied, slowly, almost in defiance. If you were to ask Kabaji if he were slow, he would look at you with the same calm expression he was giving Atobe. It was the expression he used when talking to people who weren’t worth his time. True, he wasn’t as smart as Oshitari, but Kabaji knew that you didn’t wear purple ruffled shirts to tennis practice. Atobe did not know this and was, therefore, excluded from Kabaji’s mental list of intelligent beings.

“Go home and prepare for the party. Ore-sama will handle the decorating himself as you are clearly incapable.” Atobe rose from the couch with a snort. “Ore-sama doesn’t know why he keeps you around if you cannot perform even the simplest of tasks.” Atobe tugged at the garlands on Kabaji’s arms. “You’re stretching the garlands, Kabaji. If ore-sama has to purchase new ones, he will be very displeased.”

Kabaji looked down at Atobe and handed him the garlands. “Uhs.” Bowing, the giant left, thankful to be out of Atobe’s perfumed presence.

 ** &-& **

“Hey Gakuto, over here! Here!” Jiroh jumped up and waved at his classmate, nearly knocking over a rack of tree skirts. The cashier at the front of the Christmas novelty store shot him a dirty look, but the orange-haired volley specialist was too excited to notice.

Gakuto watched Jiroh jump a few more times before moving over. “Jiroh, you’re awake. That’s new.” Gakuto spared a few glares for the other shoppers in the store. What the hell were they looking at, anyway? “You seen Oshitari around? He’s supposed to meet me here.”

“Of course I’m awake, I can’t sleep through Christmas! Come look at this!” Jiroh grabbed Gakuto’s arm and dragged him across the store to an ornament display. “It’s a red and green tennis ball! Look! Look!”

Jiroh’s grip hurt and the tennis ball ornament was ugly. “Yeah, that’s…great. You seen Oshitari?” An awake Jiroh was never really anything Gakuto wanted to be around. Besides, any moment now, Jiroh was going to start talking about Atobe. You had to be as blind as Kabaji was dumb to not notice the Godzilla-sized crush Jiroh had on their soon to be captain. And, for all his Insight, Atobe hadn’t noticed. Or, if he had, he was ignoring it.

“He’s trying something on in the dressing rooms. It was blue, I think. So, you think I should get it for Atobe?” Jiroh was bouncing again. “I want to bring him something as congratulations, but I don’t want to go overboard. It’s got glitter and he likes sparkly things…”

“Jiroh, buy the damn ornament already, would ya?” Gakuto looked toward the dressing rooms. There were three stalls and two had their curtains drawn. Rats. He could kneel down and see if he found Oshitari’s shoes, but then he might get kicked out.

“But there’s also this other thing over here!” Jiroh took hold of Gakuto’s arm again, pulling him across to the other end of the store, near a rack of “holiday miscellany.” Jiroh plucked up a purple feather boa and wiggled it in front of Gakuto’s face. “Think he’d like this better?”

“Oh get that one.” Gakuto’s eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter. The ornament was bad, but this was much, much worse. The scary thing was that Atobe would probably love it.

“Shopping for Atobe, I see.” At the sound of Oshitari’s deep, melodic voice, Gakuto relaxed, all of his tension immediately melting away. Oshitari was much better at handling Jiroh than Gakuto was.

“Think he’ll like it?” Jiroh moved the boa in front of Oshitari’s face and the tensai sneezed.

Gakuto caught a flash of the price tag and his eyes widened. “Woah. That’s a lot of money to pay for a piece of cra…for that.” A squeeze to the shoulder was Gakuto’s reward for his discretion.

“It’s swan feathers!” Jiroh clutched the boa to his chest and looked around the store. Content that no one was listening, he whispered, “Atobe likes swans, so I thought this would be doubly good.”

“It will be wonderful and he’ll love it,” Oshitari assured, squeezing Gakuto’s shoulder again, probably to keep him from saying anything. Not that Gakuto was going to say anything- he’d stopped himself from telling Jiroh what he really thought about that feathered thing, didn’t he?

“Gakuto and I have reservations for lunch so we must be going. There is a wrapping station a few stores down. I suggest the number seven wrap, with the purple origami cranes. Atobe will enjoy it.” Oshitari took Gakuto’s arm and turned the acrobat toward the exit. “Excuse us.”

“Is he really going to give that to Atobe?” Gakuto whispered in disbelief once they were several stores down from the Christmas shop.

“I believe he is. Do not ruin his gift by laughing at Atobe when he opens the package.” Oshitari looked sternly down at Gakuto and Gakuto pouted. It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t done anything yet and Oshitari was already scolding him.

“Fine, fine. So, where are we going for lunch?” Gakuto began to jump in place while Oshitari gave him one of his mysterious smiles. If they weren’t in public, Gakuto might try to kiss him, just to get the smile off his face. Of course, then Yuushi would freak out and they’d never play doubles again, which was akin to the end of the world in Gakuto’s way of thinking.

 ** &-& **

“Shishido, stop pacing. It’s getting on ore-sama’s nerves.” Atobe sat in his velvet and cherrywood chair, watching Shishido with unveiled disgust. “You’re asking him out on a date, not to marry you.” Atobe paused and raised a hand to his face. “There’s at least two years until that’ll happen.”

“Shut up Keigo, before I take that Santa hat and shove it down your throat.” Shishido stopped pacing, but continued to stand in his “obstinate pose.” It was the pose he took up whenever he thought his stomach might jump from his abdomen. It happened a lot around Ohtori, the subject of Shishido and Atobe’s recent argument. Shishido had lost and was, as a result, going to ask the first year on a date tonight. Ohtori was going to say no, so Shishido didn’t understand why Atobe insisted that he ask, unless it was to watch Shishido sink into the inevitable depression the rejection would bring.

“You’re pulling out your hair. Stop it.” Atobe threw an ice cube from his orange-pineapple juice, hitting Shishido square between the eyes.

Shishido paused, untwining the hair from his fingers. “I’m the best looking guy on campus and I can’t even get a first year to go on a date with me,” he sighed, moving over to the couch and sprawling across it. He cast a look at Atobe and smiled. “At least I’m not the only dateless one. You talked to Jiroh lately?”

Atobe gripped the white fur trim of his jacket. “Ore-sama believes that you are forbidden to talk on that subject while in ore-sama’s presence.”

Shishido snorted. “Whatever. He’s going to bring you a gift, you know. I got a call from Gakuto, warning me. Seems Jiroh’s been awake all day, looking for the right gift for his Atobe-sama.” Another snort. “The least you could do is give him a smile every now and then, Keigo.”

“Ore-sama does not share Jiroh’s affections.”

Shishido let a slow grin slide across his lips. Atobe in denial was a masterwork to behold. “So you didn’t keep that bunch of third years from picking on him by challenging them to a match?”

“Ore-sama was simply being a good teammate.”

“And you didn’t secretly send him that backpack, specially made with pillow support so he wouldn’t damage his neck when he fell asleep at practice?” Shishido couldn’t help but laugh at Atobe’s horrified expression. Clearly Atobe hadn’t known that Shishido was at the upholsterer’s that day, too. “And getting it to accent his hair and complexion was a really nice touch, Keigo.”

“If you tell anyone about that, ore-sama will kill you. Himself.” Atobe’s spine slouched a bit in his chair and he gave a weary sigh. “How many people know, Ryo?”

“Just me. Maybe Oshitari, but I doubt it. He’s smart but you haven’t given him any reason to be suspicious.” Shishido closed his eyes and draped a hand over his forehead. “No one would care, so just make yourself happy already. It’s unnatural for you to deny yourself anything.”

“Ore-sama will think on this.” Atobe’s posture was again perfect, his nose again held just that much higher than the average mortal. Atobe picked up a bell and rang it three times. “Two more glasses of juice,” he directed a servant before waiving her off. “Come Ryo, I need you to hang some garlands before the guests arrive.”

“So that’s why you invited me over early, you bastard.” Shishido threw a toss pillow at his friend and rolled off the couch, adjusting his hair once standing.

“You didn’t expect ore-sama to do it himself, did you? Now hurry, the others will be here soon.”

 ** &-& **

Gakuto and Oshitari were the first to arrive. They presented Atobe’s butler with a small, joint gift, a classical CD Oshitari knew Atobe wanted, and headed toward the reception area. Oshitari was not surprised to find Shishido already there, brooding in a corner. What was surprising was how nerve-wracked Atobe seemed. To the outside observer, Atobe was the bastion of calm, but to Oshitari and Gakuto, who’d been dealing with Atobe for well over a year now, the balled fists and the slight biting of the lip gave Atobe away. Beside Oshitari, Gakuto was snickering and holding his partner’s arm to keep from falling down. “Gakuto. Discretion, please.” Oshitari placed a comforting hand over the shorter boy’s and hoped that Gakuto wouldn’t say anything to incite Atobe’s wrath. Atobe was edgy lately. An edgy Atobe was a dangerous Atobe.

“Oshitari, Gakuto. Welcome.” Atobe bowed grandly before ringing a bell that sat beside what looked to be a giant velvet throne. “Your drinks will be here momentarily.”

Oshitari really didn’t know how Atobe pulled it off, but the tensai was, for a moment, drawn in by the grandeur that was Atobe Keigo. Atobe’s aura was so overwhelming, whether on the court or off, that sometimes, just for a moment or two, Oshitari hated him. Atobe had a skill that no one could replicate. No amount of study or practice could make you into Atobe Keigo. Atobe Keigo was a life force sustained completely on his own hubris and charisma. Clearing his head, thanks to Gakuto’s silent but warm presence, Oshitari smiled at his future captain. “Thank you Atobe. Your hospitality is much appreciated.” When Gakuto didn’t respond, Oshitari elbowed him gently.

“Nice place Atobe. How long did it take Kabaji to put those streamers up?” The streamers were a magnificent sight in all spots but one, which was just over the fireplace.

“The work was done quickly under ore-sama’s expert supervision. Ore-sama is pleased that you enjoy the décor.” Atobe’s sneer plainly displayed that he thought Gakuto had the decorative sense of a herd of bison. Oshitari did not appreciate that look.

“We’ll be sure to tell Kabaji he did an excellent job,” Oshitari assured, noting with no little amusement how the comment seemed to sting Atobe’s pride a bit. The doorbell sounded. It would probably be Jiroh.

 ** &-& **

Ohtori stood on the doorstep of Atobe’s mansion, staring down at the small package in his hands. It was a stupid present. He probably should’ve left it at home. His senpai wasn’t going to like it anyway and…

“Hoi Ohtori!” Jiroh jumped out of a white limousine and bounded up to the door. “Whatcha bring Atobe? I got him something really, really awesome.” Jiroh held up a beautifully wrapped gift.

“Oh, this one’s not for Atobe-san.” Ohtori looked down at his gift, wrapped by hand. Now he was really embarrassed.

“What’d you get Shishido, then?” Jiroh’s face was moving closer to the small box, almost as if he was seeing through the packaging. “Is it the barrettes he was looking at the other day?” Jiroh looked up from the package and smiled. “He’ll really like them. His hair’s always flying around while he plays.”

“I-uh-I…thank you Jiroh-senpai. I did get the barrettes, but I don’t think I’ll give them to Shishido-san today. He probably doesn’t want to bother with me right now. I took up enough of his time this year, asking for all that help with my smash technique.” Ohtori’s grip on the box tightened. “I really shouldn’t be here. I’m the only first year Atobe-san invited besides Hiyoshi-kun and Atobe-san probably only invited me because...”

Jiroh yawned, his mouth opening and showing the undersides of perfectly white teeth. “Angst is boring Ohtori-kun. Atobe invited you because he wants you here. Now let’s go before Gakuto makes Atobe mad and he’s no fun!” Jiroh surged forward and rang the doorbell. While they waited for someone to answer the door, Jiroh patted Ohtori on the head. “He’ll love them. Don’t worry.”

 ** &-& **

Shishido saw Ohtori come in and he promptly busied himself by staring at a bowl of pinecones. They were sort of fancy, he guessed. They had glitter-glue on them- expensive, high-end glitter glue- and they smelled like cinnamon. Shishido’s mom used to buy things like this until the dog started eating them. Now they just put up a tree in the family room and had some day laborers come over and put lights on the house. This year Shishido’s father had expanded their garden display to include an animatronic, waving Santa. Shishido’s mother thought it was tacky and his father thought it was fun. Sometime during the baking of the fifth fruitcake, Shishido’s parents decided to alternate the Santa. Next year, the stationary, light-up reindeer would have to do.

“Hey Shishido, you gonna go say hi to him?” Gakuto tapped on Shishido’s shoulder and took a spot leaning against the wall.

“Hadn’t really thought about it. Why?” Shishido was so very proud of how unconcerned he managed to sound. Too bad Gakuto knew him better than most.

“Oh no reason. I just thought you might want to ask him out before Taki does. They’ve been playing doubles a lot and I hear they’re pretty good. Next year they’re looking to become an established team. You know how that goes.”

“I play singles so I don’t know how that goes, and what Ohtori does to further his tennis is not my concern.” Shishido wanted it to be his concern, but the truth of the matter was that, if you played singles and the person you were interested in played doubles, things got messy. Shishido was the jealous type and wouldn’t be able to stand anyone Ohtori played doubles with and, while Ohtori was a strong player, his talents were more suited to doubles play. If Shishido asked Ohtori out now, and what Gakuto said about an impending Taki-Ohtori doubles team was true, Shishido wouldn’t be able to stand it. He’d kill Taki. It was definitely a bad idea to ask Ohtori out now. Keigo would understand and let him out of the promise he’d made, particularly if Shishido played the Jiroh card.

“You’re thinking stupid thoughts again, aren’t you?” Gakuto sighed, banging his head lightly against the wall. “I didn’t say it to discourage you, idiot. I said it so you’d get your ass out there and pull the kid under some mistletoe. Oshitari rigged some up in the kitchen, near the juicer. Have the kid help you get some punch and pull him under the stupid weed and kiss him.”

When Gakuto had plans, they were always nice and easy. They also carried a certain amount of shamelessness. “I can’t just kiss him. What if he hates it? I don’t want to be awkward for year. I’m fine. We’re fine. Leave it alone.” Shishido turned away from his friend and Gakuto left with a huff, probably to find Oshitari and complain that Shishido was an insensitive bastard who didn’t appreciate what his friends went through for him.

 ** &-& **

“We go through all this trouble and he doesn’t even say thank you,” Gakuto complained through a sugar cookie.

“He’s nervous. Give it time.” Oshitari looked at the cookie Jiroh’d given him. It was Jiroh’s latest and greatest midnight diversion. It was shaped like a crest and was painted to resemble the Hyoutei pennant. Unfortunately, Jiroh wasn’t as good at cookie décor as he was at tennis. The kanji were a bit garbled and the frosting was an unappetizing shade of paint-water grey. Everyone was eating the cookies, though. Unless you wanted to face Atobe’s wrath, you would eat cookies until Jiroh stopped handing them to you.

“He doesn’t have time. Taki’s going to pounce soon and then Shishido’ll get bitchy.” Gakuto took a vicious bite of cookie and choked. “How much sugar did he put in these things?” He eyed the cookie warily.

“Twice the needed amount, I’m sure. Atobe likes sweet things.” Oshitari took a small nibble from his own cookie. “Eat it slowly. The rest of them will be gone before you’re done.” Oshitari enjoyed spending time with his doubles partner, but sometimes the mechanism that was Gakuto’s mind was a complete mystery. It bounced from thought to thought, never losing track of any particular strain. One moment, Gakuto would be griping about cookies, the next he’d discuss a new doubles formation, and then, just as he was talking about his mother’s jam making prowess, he’d come to some startling new conclusion about the aforementioned cookies before casually resuming discussion on the jam, which somehow related back to the doubles formation.

“We should shove them under the mistletoe.” Gakuto looked toward the kitchen with a grin. “I bet we could get Ohtori to get Shishido in there. Ohtori’s been hiding something in his pocket all night. I bet it’s a present for Shishido.” Gakuto’s eyes scanned the room and landed on Atobe, now seated on his throne. “When’s he opening presents? I want to see his face when he opens Jiroh’s gift.”

“It’ll be another hour yet until the gift opening.” Oshitari watched Gakuto bounce, though he was still half sulking. “In answer to your first question, I do not believe Ohtori would appreciate our intrusion on his rather awkward state. We should leave things be for a while. If they haven’t spoken when Atobe opens his gifts, we can construct a plan.”

 ** &-& **

Hiyoshi sat on the couch, watching his teammates jostle about him. Atobe took Hiyoshi under his wing early on in the year, but failed to inform anyone else of this occurance. As such, Hiyoshi was invited to the celebration, even though no one seemed to know who he was.

“Ah, Hiyoshi-kun. I’m glad you’re here.” Ohtori Choutarou was, perhaps, the one exception to the rule. Ohtori always made a point of making Hiyoshi feel welcomed. Ohtori was the bright light in the dark, brutal world of Hyoutei. Unfortunately, Ohtori Choutarou was fixated on a senpai with an ego to rival Atobe’s.

Hiyoshi smiled at his classmate, trying not to sound as bitter as he felt. “Atobe-senpai invited me. I couldn’t say no.” No, Hiyoshi couldn’t say no and still maintain some hope of being a Regular next year. He knew there were 199 other players, just as talented as he, that would gladly take his spot if he fell from Atobe’s favor. “It’s good that Atobe invited you, too. I don’t really know anyone here.”

Ohtori smiled and took Hiyoshi’s arm. “I’ll introduce you to Shishido-senpai. He’s really nice. You’ll like him.”

Under the brilliant, searing light of Ohtori’s smile, Hiyoshi was unable to express that the very last person he wanted to come into contact with was Shishido Ryou. Shishido wasn’t dumb. He saw the way Hiyoshi looked at Ohtori and, on more than one occasion, Hiyoshi had been the unhappy recipient of one of Shishido’s colder stares. When Shishido didn’t like you, he had no qualms about letting you know, and quickly. Luckily, Hiyoshi was saved as Jiroh dove between him and Ohtori, thrusting cookies at them.

“Ohtori, Shishido is looking for you. Hiyoshi-kun, can you help me arrange Atobe’s presents. The table looks all wrong.” Jiroh grabbed Hiyoshi’s wrist and began to tug him away from a blissfully oblivious Ohtori. “Be careful Hiyoshi-kun; Shishido was watching you.”

“I…er…thanks, senpai.” The solemn look that passed over Jiroh’s face just before Hiyoshi gave his thanks was frightening. It spoke of an alertness, a vast intelligence that Hiyoshi had never thought to accredit to the sleepy volley specialist. He would not make that mistake again.


	2. Chapter 2

“This is boring,” Atobe told his glass of fruit juice, swirling it around and watching the sprinkling of lights from the Christmas tree behind him dance.

“Hey Atobe, let’s go play a game or something.” Jiroh bounded up and tugged at Atobe’s arm.

Atobe fought a smile, as he usually did when Jiroh was around. The urge to smile simply because someone else was smiling at you was impractical and uncivilized. Besides, Jiroh smiled at everyone. It didn’t mean anything. “Ore-sama believes we shall play billiards.” Atobe snapped his fingers and a servant appeared. “Fetch Mukahi and Oshitari. Ore-sama requires their attendance in the billiard room. Come, Jiroh.”

“We are so going to trounce them. I’ve been practicing since the last time we played and I’m really, really good now.” Jiroh pulled Atobe out of his chair and linked their arms together. No one was looking, so Atobe allowed it.

“Ore-sama hopes that we will not have a repeat of the last match of this nature. Ore-sama does not lose gracefully.” In fact, Atobe did not lose at all. He called the game early, declaring himself exhausted, and refused to admit that he was, at any point in time, losing to anyone as vulgar as Mukahi Gakuto. For his part, Gakuto insisted that Atobe was “full of crap.”

 ** &-& **

“We’re going to waste ‘em,” Gakuto chuckled after Atobe’s servant was out of earshot. “Jiroh sucks at billiards and Atobe isn’t much better.”

“Atobe didn’t speak to Jiroh for a week after losing that game,” Oshitari pointed out, taking hold of Gakuto’s shoulders and steering him toward the billiard room. “Jiroh practiced every day until he became a master billiard player. We’ll have to watch him.” Oshitari gave in to the small temptation and gave Gakuto’s shoulders a soft little squeeze. Immediately, Gakuto started to make the low buzz-hum in the back of his throat that signaled that Oshitari was doing something good. Oshitari often wanted to stretch their explorations and see how Gakuto’s responses would vary under different stimuli, but there was a line of trust between the doubles partners that Oshitari dare not cross; at least, not after only a year of playing together.

If Oshitari had to pin down their relationship, he’d say that Gakuto was his best friend. If put to the knife, Oshitari might admit that he had a crush on his doubles partner. He could wait, though, until Gakuto showed some sign of interest. At the moment, Gakuto seemed more interested in crushing Atobe’s ego and completing his new handspring return.

“Yuushi, you’re thinking too hard again.” Gakuto rapped Oshitari over the head with his knuckles. “Did Jiroh’s cookie finally get to you? I saw Shishido run into the bathroom and he’s had about five.”

“Shishido ran into the bathroom to avoid talking to Ohtori.” Oshitari pointed toward the bathroom and, sure enough, Ohtori was standing outside the door.

 ** &-& **

Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. He had to run into the bathroom, didn’t he? It wasn’t even the second story bathroom, but the closest one to the party. Shishido sank down to the ground, his back resting against the under-sink cabinet. Everything would’ve been fine if Ohtori hadn’t followed him. Ohtori’s concern was usually cute, but today it was a little- claustrophobic. Maybe that was just the five foot by five foot square room Shishido was crouched in.

“Shishido-senpai, are you okay? I can have them get you something for your stomach if it’s upset.” Ohtori sounded so cute and gentle and everything someone like Shishido would defile in five minutes. Best to stay in the bathroom.

“I’m fine.” _Please go away._ “I think I ate too many cookies.” The cookies weren’t bad. They looked weird, but they were edible. Jiroh probably tested them until he got the recipe to Atobe’s liking. No amount of practice would be able to help Jiroh’s artistic skills, though.

“Oh. Well. If you need anything, just yell. I’ll go stand by the corner, just in case. Mukahi-san and Oshitari-san went to play billiards with Atobe-san and Jiroh-san so you won’t get teased if you’re feeling sick and need some help.” Ohtori was probably biting his lip and shifting his weight unconsciously from his toes to his heals and back again. He did that when he was nervous or embarrassed. It was one of the first things Shishido noticed about Ohtori, probably because the freshman was often nervous or embarrassed when they spoke- another reason for Shishido to keep his distance.

“Thanks, but just go enjoy the party. I’ll be out in a bit.” Now Ohtori was going to think he had a delicate stomach and the freshman would worry about him. Ohtori did sweet things like that, checking up on his teammates to make sure everyone was okay. He purchased special insoles for Hiyoshi’s shoes when Hiyoshi complained that his arches hurt after practice. Ohtori sent Gakuto a get well card and bouquet when the acrobatic player fractured his ankle earlier in the year. Ohtori purchased an extra copy of a book for Oshitari because the tensai was away with family when the author was in town, signing copies. Everyone loved Ohtori and Ohtori loved everyone. Shishido wasn’t special. Ohtori was just doing what Ohtori always did- being nice to a senpai.

Shishido sank further down, resting his weight on his tailbone. A few deep breathes and he was ready to face the world again. All he had to do was stay away from Ohtori before he embarrassed himself by saying something stupid or, worse, asked his kouhai out on a date.

 ** &-& **

“I thought you wanted to play billiards, Atobe, not watch Jiroh play billiards.” Gakuto sat in a chair in the corner, sulking. He wanted to be sitting in the other corner, all snug and warm and happy on Oshitari’s lap, but the tensai would probably freak out. Maybe when they won nationals next year Gakuto would be able to kiss his doubles partner. If Oshitari reacted badly, Gakuto could just claim it was a congratulatory kiss and done in the heat of the moment.

“Ore-sama does not appreciate your snide commentary toward his billiards partner. It is not ore-sama’s fault that you lost the coin toss to go first. You will simply have to pay for your deficiencies, Gakuto.” Atobe smiled his stupid, aristocratic smirk and turned back to watch Jiroh wiggle across the table while lining up for a shot. Gakuto noticed that, after hearing Atobe defend his honor, Jiroh upped his smile by fifty watts. Those two really made Gakuto want to heave.

“Gakuto, would you please go up and check on Shishido. Ore-sama believes you the best person to convince Shishido to do what must be done.” Atobe’s eyes flitted, again, to Jiroh’s swaying rear end. “Do not return until you are successful. In the unlikely event that your team acquires a turn, Oshitari can play.”

Gakuto wanted to tell Atobe where he could put that suggestion, but Gakuto really wanted to play on the team next year. Arguing with Atobe didn’t keep you on the team- unless you were Shishido, who was bitchy to everyone. “Whatever.” Gakuto slunk out of the room, his feet falling as hard as he could make regularly paced footfalls sound. He would do Atobe’s little chore, but he would damn well show that he wasn’t pleased to be doing it.

“Hurry back Gakuto,” Oshitari called before Gakuto slammed the door. The acrobatic player paused a moment outside the door to dwell in the fuzzy, tingly feeling that buzzed through his stomach when Oshitari said nice things like that. A minute more, and the feeling was gone, replaced by an acidic dislike for Atobe, Shishido, and Ohtori, who were eating into his Oshitari-time. Well, maybe Gakuto wasn’t mad at Ohtori; the kid didn’t know any better.

 ** &-& **

It took him five more minutes, but Shishido finally got up the guts to leave the bathroom. Hiyoshi thought hiding from your love interest by retreating into the bathroom was something that you stopped when you got to middle school. Apparently, no one told Shishido. Atobe wasn’t around, so Hiyoshi was currently sitting in the semi-comfortable throne in the center of the living room. From there, he could see everything going on. Kabaji was quietly drinking egg-nog and talking with the butler, Choutarou was pacing by the fireplace, Shishido was shuffling back and forth, taking two steps toward Ohtori and two steps away, and Mukahi was just entering the room and looking at Shishido like he wanted to kill the dash specialist. Go Mukahi-senpai.

“Hey Shishido and Ohtori, come with me. I need your help in the kitchen.” Mukahi was rolling his eyes and tapping his foot on the ground. Oshitari wasn’t anywhere nearby so that meant that Atobe had sent Mukahi on some sort of mission. Gakuto didn’t leave Oshitari unless ordered. Shishido and Ohtori could learn something from Mukahi and Oshitari. Those two didn’t dance around eachother and fill the air with unneeded tension. Everyone knew Oshitari and Mukahi were going out and it made everything that much easier to deal with when the two occasionally made eyes at eachother when they thought the other wasn’t looking. It was cute.

The way Ohtori pined after Shishido was not cute. “H-hai,” the tall boy called, trotting after Mukahi, but only after Shishido had moved to follow. Ohtori would probably jump into a spiked pit if Shishido went first. Grumbling to himself, Hiyoshi reached for the bell and rang for a servant to refill his juice.

 ** &-& **

Oshitari lined up his shot carefully, eyeing the various balls and where they would scatter. He should be able to win this game in four rounds if he aimed carefully. Hopefully Gakuto would be back by then.

“Break already,” Atobe sighed, examining imaginary dirt under his nails. On the floor near Atobe’s feet, Jiroh sat, his eyes flitting open and closed. “If you do not hurry, Jiroh will fall asleep.”

And everyone knew the world moved around Jiroh’s sleep schedule. Oshitari resisted the urge to snort at the display Atobe was unwittingly making. Not interested in Jiroh, indeed. It didn’t take Oshitari’s considerable IQ to deduce that Atobe was more than partial to the volley specialist. Atobe’s fingers unconsciously sliding through Jiroh’s hair was evidence enough for the densest of individuals. “My apologies. I will try to expedite my win as much as possible.”

Oshitari broke, but his smooth gesture was interrupted by the sound of Gakuto’s scream. It had to be Gakuto, no one else on Hyoutei could hit that high, nasal note and still sound so beautiful. “My apologies. We will have to forfeit this game.” Oshitari looked from Atobe to a now sleeping Jiroh. “I-I need to go.” He dropped the cue and sprinted out toward the sound of Gakuto’s swearing.


	3. Chapter 3

  
That stupid little rat and his stupid, immature little tricks. What was Gakuto thinking, making him stand under mistletoe with Choutarou. He couldn’t very well just stand there and kiss his kouhai in front of the team. Well, maybe it was just the three of them in the kitchen and Gakuto was trying to sneak out, but still- it wasn’t right. Shishido couldn’t take advantage of Choutarou like that. It would be wrong.

So, to vent his frustrations, he punched Gakuto, good and hard. Shishido’s knuckles were going to be bruised, but it was worth it. He’d wanted to pop Gakuto one since first year, when Gakuto put blue hair dye in Shishido’s shampoo. Now Gakuto was on the floor, unleashing a string of curses that was turning Choutarou’s face a reddish-purple. “Stop that,” Shishido grumbled, giving Gakuto a small kick.

He never expected to be bull-rushed from behind, much less by Oshitari. Oshitari had a mean punch to him, too. Shishido’s eye was going to be black for a while, no doubt. Shishido looked up and, with his good eye, glared at the tensai. “Get the hell off of me,” he grunted, pushing at Oshitari, though the boy wouldn’t move.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t manhandle my doubles partner.” Oshitari’s voice was smooth and calm. Just once, Shishido wanted to hear him scream.

“Yeah, well tell him to mind his own damn business.” Shishido shoved again to no avail.

“Oshitari-senpai, please stop hurting Shishido-senpai. Mukahi-senpai already kicked him in the stomach.” Choutarou’s voice was soft, like a hot silk wrap sliding soothingly over Shishido’s boiling mind. It didn’t matter if Oshitari hit him again, Shishido wouldn’t feel it.

“Ohtori, please take Gakuto and go wait in the living room. Ryou and I are going to have a conversation.” Oshitari turned and smiled at Choutarou. Shishido didn’t mean to growl, it just came out.

“You should hit him again. I think you jostled his brain back into position,” Gakuto laughed, sticking his tongue out as he rose from the floor.

“Gakuto, please,” Oshitari warned. It was the first time Shishido had ever heard Oshitari be stern with Gakuto and, judging from the fall in Gakuto’s shoulders, it was the first time it had ever happened.

Shishido contemplated apologizing but, as he caught Gakuto’s half-teared eyes, he knew that now wasn’t the time. Gakuto probably knew he didn’t mean it anyway. They always got into fights like this, which was why they were friends. Oshitari never understood how Shishido and Gakuto’s relationship worked, which was why Shishido was still pinned to the floor and had an elbow lodged in his sternum.

 ** &-& **

Atobe never minded Jiroh’s erratic sleep schedule. In fact, he rather preferred Jiroh’s sleepy countenance to his overly hyper one. Jiroh, when asleep, reminded Atobe of a stuffed puppy he had as a child. It was orange, with floppy ears and two large, bright button eyes. Atobe’s mother made him give the puppy away when he was old enough to leave the nursery, but Atobe never forgot the feeling of warmth and safety that was associated with the stuffed animal. Jiroh, when quiet, was just as warm and just as safe.

Jiroh was also cutting off the circulation to Atobe’s thigh. In his constant shifting while Oshitari was lining up his shot, Jiroh grabbed hold of Atobe’s leg and used it as a pillow. Now that he was asleep, Jiroh was using Atobe’s leg as a pillow and a plushie, which perplexed the soon to be buchou because he was fairly certain his leg was not, in any way, shape, or form, resemblant of a plushie. Atobe worked very hard to keep his legs, and his body in general, lean and compact. He was quite proud of the musculature of his legs.

“You’re warm, Keigo,” Jiroh yawned, holding Atobe’s leg a bit tighter.

“Jiroh, let ore-sama go.” Atobe tapped Jiroh on the head. Atobe’s efforts were met with a snore. Atobe frowned and grabbed ahold of Jiroh’s shoulder, shaking it firmly. “Jiroh, this is undignified and ore-sama cannot feel his toes. Wake. Up.” He had to admit, though, that the burnt orange of Jiroh’s hair complimented his red Santa pants nicely. The velvet was very soft, probably a nice enough surface to lay on, and, warmed from Atobe’s body heat, it might not make a bad place to rest for a moment- not a very long moment, but a moment. Jiroh had been resting more than a moment.

Jiroh let out a little moan and adjusted himself slightly, slackening his hold on Atobe’s thigh and tucking into a ball next to the chair. Atobe moved to say something, but was struck, again, by the sheer beauty of the sight before him. It wouldn’t do to be walked in on, though. Gakuto would be sure to take everything the wrong way and jump to embarrassing conclusions.

“Jiroh, wake up.” Atobe grabbed hold of both Jiroh’s shoulders and shook violently. “Wake up or you’re going to miss watching ore-sama open his gifts.”

Jiroh yawned and blinked up at Atobe before smiling. It was a rare smile, one Atobe had only seen a few times. It was the one that Atobe kept, always, at the back of his mind, the one that he thought of first whenever Jiroh’s name came up in conversation. It was the smile that had won over a man who had formerly scorned sentiment as useless and a distraction from tennis. It was the smile that Atobe had fallen in love with.

 ** &-& **

“I think we should intervene,” Ohtori whispered. He and Mukahi-senpai were pressed against the kitchen door, waiting for something, anything to happen. So far, it had been five minutes and there hadn’t been any screaming. “Shishido-senpai is strong, but Oshitari-senpai has more body weight. He’ll crush Shishido-senpai.”

“Don’t worry, Ryou’s quick. He’ll weasel out of there before Oshitari can beat him too badly.”

Ohtori frowned and looked down at his senpai. “Anou…Mukahi-senpai, is there a problem between you and Oshitari-senpai?” Mukahi-senpai looked up at him and frowned a bit before covering it with a smirk.

“Nah, why’d you ask?” Mukahi-senpai was fidgeting. He didn’t fidget unless he was nervous.

“You called Oshitari-senpai Oshitari and not Yuushi like you normally do.” In Ohtori’s recollection, Mukahi-senpai had never been formal with Oshitari-senpai unless it was in jest.

Mukahi-senpai quirked a small, sad smile and looked away, back into the throng of the party. “Hey Ohtori, can I ask you something?” Ohtori nodded, perplexed by his senpai’s somber mood. “You like Shishido, right?”

Ohtori was very careful in phrasing his response, not wanting to sound inappropriate. “H-hai. He’s always very nice to me.”

“No, you really like him, in a way that makes everything better when he’s there, right?” Mukahi-senpai still wasn’t looking at Ohtori, which was more than unsettling the freshman. Mukahi-senpai was never spacey or vague. He always said what was on his mind and ridiculed those who hid behind flowery speech.

“I…I…” Answering Mukahi-senpai’s question would mean admitting something that only Jiroh-senpai knew. It was a big step; one that Ohtori wasn’t sure he wanted to take. Mukahi-senpai waited for him. He didn’t prod or grumble, like he usually did, he just stood there, quiet. “Yeah,” Ohtori admitted, realizing that, on some level, Mukahi-senpai already knew.

The other boy turned, then, and gave another of those thin, twitchy smiles. “The way you feel about Shishido, that’s how I feel about Yuushi.” Mukahi-senpai closed his eyes and sighed. “He doesn’t know, though. Don’t you think it would be weird; playing doubles with a guy you know has the hots for you?”

Shishido-senpai played singles, so Ohtori had never given that particular angle much thought. “I suppose so. But senpai, I always thought you and Oshitari-senpai were together.” He couldn’t say it without blushing.

Mukahi-senpai looked sad again, and his eyes wanted to cry even though he was sniffling the tears back. “Nah, we just play doubles.”

 ** &-& **

In the kitchen, Oshitari was taking calm, deep breathes. When Gakuto and Ohtori left, Oshitari’s anger deflated into a hopeless flood of guilt. Now there was absolutely no way Gakuto would ever accept his affections. Well done. And he was supposed to be the genius. Shishido, by contrast, looked fine, the bastard.

“Staring at the door isn’t going to help,” Shishido quipped while preparing an icepack for his eye. Oshitari was rather proud of the large circle that marred Shishido’s too-perfect face.

“And what do you suggest I do, Shishido; hide in the bathroom until the problem goes away?” Shishido’s wince told Oshitari that his comment stung at Shishido’s pride. Good, he’d have something to match the big bruise on his face. “Before you go handing out advice, please consider your own troubles and how they affect your credibility.” Or, in Shishido’s case, how they completely annihilated his credibility.

“Your circumstances and mine are completely different,” Shishido argued, zipping closed a sandwich bag of ice. “For one, Gakuto already likes you.” Shishido hissed when the ice pack touched his skin. “I’m going to kick your ass for this later, Oshitari.”

“I look forward to your feeble attempt at retribution. Was there a second reason our situations weren’t similar or have you simply forgotten how to count now that your hands are occupied?” Oshitari knew it was dangerous to rile Shishido up, but watching the short boy seethe was like watching an angry hamster on a wheel. All Shishido needed were the fuzzy ears and he’d be a perfect replica.

“Forget it. I was going to help you out, but forget it.” Shishido stalked past Oshitari and threw the kitchen door open.

“Well, that was lovely,” Oshitari sighed, moving to the counter to pick up a few pieces of ice Shishido left in his wake.

 ** &-& **

Atobe entered the living room with Jiroh trailing, sleepy-eyed, behind him. A quick look to his chair and Hiyoshi was scuttling out of it, moving to stand in a corner. At least the seat would be warm when he sat down. Atobe snapped in the air once and servants came rushing in, carrying a table laden with gifts. “Ore-sama will be opening presents now.” He sat and, not unexpectedly, Jiroh curled up on the floor beside the chair. Atobe only hoped Jiroh wouldn’t use his leg as a pillow again. It would be embarrassing.

Much to Atobe’s surprise and despite Jiroh’s curled position, the volley specialist was wide awake. “Open mine first! Open mine first!”

Atobe looked down with a rare, patient smile. “Ore-sama will open it in time.” Atobe looked up and noticed Gakuto snickering. “Is there a problem, Gakuto? Do share your amusement with the group.” Despite the fact that Gakuto loved to be the center of attention, Atobe knew that the acrobatic player couldn’t stand to be put on the spot. Perhaps this incident would teach Gakuto to keep his infantile impulses in line.

“Nothing,” Gakuto grumbled, moving to stand next to Ohtori of all people.

“Aah?” Atobe looked around the room and, sure enough, Oshitari was standing on the other side, as far as he could from Gakuto. So, they were fighting. He looked down to Jiroh, who was tugging on his sleeve.

“They were arguing because Ryou and Gakuto got into a fight,” Jiroh whispered. “Then Yuushi and Ryou got into a fight, which upset Ohtori, so Gakuto was upset, so now he and Yuushi are fighting.”

“Children,” Atobe sighed, making sure to give each of the three involved (surely Ohtori hadn’t instigated anything) a healthy glare. “Ore-sama will open Hiyoshi’s gift first.” A clap of the hands and the gift was sitting on Atobe’s lap. It was simply wrapped and had a good bit of weight to it. Atobe considered the package a little longer before carefully unwrapping it.

Atobe was aware he had certain…odd character traits. One of these was his methodology for opening gifts. First he would examine the outside of the package, taking in its size and weight. He would then make a guess as to the contents of the package. Primary examination done, he carefully unwrapped the gift, removing first one corner, making sure to peal back any tape in such a manner as to not damage the wrapping. Atobe was not overly sentimental- he was not going to keep the wrapping or reuse it- he simply wanted to unwrap the package properly. As a child, Atobe learned that the tidy way was the proper way. Tape removed, Atobe folded the wrapping and set it aside. All the squares would be piled in a stack and later thrown away.

Once the wrapping paper was gone, Atobe did a secondary examination. If the item was in its original box with a photo or description, then the game was over. He tended to enjoy these sorts of gifts slightly less than those that had been repackaged. If the item was repackaged, he could examine the weight and box and better feel how the weight of the item related to the box. A second and final guess at the package’s contents would be made.

Hiyoshi’s present was repackaged and when Atobe opened the box, he found a fountain pen set with inkwell and lavender ink. “Ore-sama approves.” And that was all the thanks that Atobe gave. If he disapproved, he simply set the gift aside and moved on.

 ** &-& **

Kabaji watched Atobe open his gifts. Hiyoshi’s gift was approved, which was good. Hiyoshi would’ve been upset otherwise. Kabaji always thought Hiyoshi to be a touch oversensitive about trivial things. The boy could take as much physical damage as an oxen and not blink, but if you publicly snubbed him, he’d enter into a bitter depression. You could tell that Hiyoshi was depressed when he started putting too much spin on his returns. Kabaji always thought the spinning effect would be a good tactic during game play, but Hiyoshi refused to believe that he ever deviated from his standard play style. That was why Hiyoshi was never going to be anything other than an alternate.

This party was boring. While Atobe opened gifts, taking twenty minutes to open every package, there was nothing the attendants could do but watch and wait. Kabaji was tired of watching. He was also tired of listening to Oshitari, who was standing beside him, sigh every time Gakuto spoke. The doubles pair needed to get it together. They went everywhere together, consulted eachother on everything- was dating really that much of a stretch? Kabaji thought not.

“I’m gonna go get some air,” Shishido grumbled, earning a slight glare from Atobe, who was unwrapping Kabaji’s gift. Kabaji had wrapped the gift in two layers of wrapping, out of spite. He’d also purchased a very light item so as to throw Atobe’s guessing off. The gift, itself, was a feathered fan. Kabaji’s sister liked it, so there was a good change Atobe would too.

“Come back safely!” Ohtori called after Shishido, staring as he often did, with eyes wide and a little bit determined. He was probably going to confess tonight, which was good, seeing as Shishido was never going to get up the nerve to do it. For all the tough-guy routine, Shishido was, at his core, a horrible coward. Hopefully Ohtori could help him with that.

 ** &-& **

While Atobe did his silly little present opening ritual, Jiroh did what he did best: observed things. He observed them with eyes half open, to be sure, but the air was far too tense to sleep in. The problem was four-fold, those folds being Gakuto, Yuushi, Ryou, and Choutarou. If those four could get it together, then Atobe could stop worrying and start paying attention to Jiroh again.

It wasn’t such a horrible situation, really. It could be handled in a few easy steps. Step one was to get Ohtori outside with Shishido. From there, Jiroh was certain Ohtori would be able to handle things. When he wasn’t presented with an audience, Ohtori-kun could be very bold. With Ohtori and Shishido taken care of, there was only Oshitari and Gakuto to handle. Those two would be difficult; they were both stubborn and held grudges that could last for years. In fourth year of elementary, Jiroh put glue on Gakuto’s seat and Gakuto wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the year. Gakuto still mentioned the glue sometimes. At least Gakuto didn’t say rude things to you while sounding nice and smiley like Oshitari did.

Jiroh’s thoughts were distracted by the feel of a hand running through his hair. He yawned and pretended to be roused from sleep, though Atobe probably knew he wasn’t asleep anyhow. It would make a nice show and save Keigo the embarrassment of explaining why he was touching Jiroh. Keigo needed time and space; Jiroh could give him that. “My present yet?” Jiroh yawned, stretching a bit to cover up his goofy Keigo-touched-me smile.

“I was thinking of opening Shishido’s gift, but he seems to have run away.” Atobe caught Jiroh’s eye and Jiroh saw a hint of mirth shining down. “Ohtori!”

“Hai buchou!” Ohtori snapped to attention and nearly bumped into a lamp.

“Fetch Ryou, would you? We’ll have some refreshments while you go get him.” Atobe dismissed Ohtori with a few loose-wristed waves of his hand. “Gakuto, Oshitari, go into the kitchen and fetch ore-sama a glass of juice.”

“Don’t you have people for that?” Gakuto sighed.

“Ore-sama wishes for you to fetch him juice and you shall do it. Now go.” Atobe turned and looked down at Jiroh.

“That was quick,” Jiroh whispered when he was sure no one was listening. Well, Kabaji was probably listening, but Kabaji never talked to anyone. He probably didn’t care. “I thought you were going to let them squirm a bit more.”

Atobe dropped down a half-quirked smile and Jiroh was very proud of himself for not swooning. “Ore-sama is tired of trivial matters taking away from the splendor of his presence. The party will not resume until ore-sama has everyone’s undivided attention.”

In the back of Jiroh’s mind, he liked to think that, someday, he would be enough to sustain Atobe’s attention addiction. It was doubtful, though. “Do you want me to check on Shishido and Ohtori?” Jiroh shifted, making ready to stand, but was held down by Atobe’s hand on his shoulder.

“It will be difficult to pass the time without you. Gakuto and Oshitari will take time. Ore-sama prefers that you stay here.” Atobe didn’t look at him as he said it, but Jiroh could feel the blush that must be covering Atobe’s cheeks. The hand on Jiroh’s shoulder shook, just slightly, before it lifted up.

Jiroh scooted a little closer and curled an arm around Atobe’s calf. “If you say so.” Jiroh set his head on Atobe’s thigh and sighed. “You’re warm, Keigo. Can I take a nap?” The hands sifting through Jiroh’s hair were all the assent he needed before he dozed off, content.


	4. Chapter 4

“Shishido-senpai, Atobe-senpai is going to open your gift now,” Ohtori called, sticking his head out the front door.

“That’s nice,” Shishido grumbled, staring up at the afternoon sky. Ohtori wondered how Shishido’s hair managed to always be in place, even when there was wind or high humidity.

“Atobe-senpai told me to come get you.” For most players, that was all the explanation that need be given. Atobe’s orders would be followed and the party would resume. Shishido-senpai was, as always, obstinate.

“Tell him I’m busy.” Shishido moved to look at the ground, kicking at nothing. “Hey Ohtori?”

Ohtori loved the way his name sounded coming off of Shishido’s lips. It sounded deep and husky and…

“Ohtori?”

“Hai senpai?” Why did he have to space out in front of Shishido? No wonder his senpai reacted so violently in the kitchen. No one would want to kiss a space case freshman whose serve never made it into the court.

“Sorry.”

The mad circus in Ohtori’s brain stopped to record the feather soft apology. “There’s nothing to be sorry for senpai. Well, you should be saying sorry to Mukahi-senpai because he was only kidding and now he and Oshitari-senpai are fighting.” Shishido should also be sorry for always being so nice to Ohtori and occasionally tossing stray bits of affection out when there was nothing behind them. Ohtori took a deep breath. Getting angry wouldn’t help anything, particularly when he had no reason to be angry in the first place.

Shishido growled and walked further out, toward the gravel circle of Atobe’s carport. “Dammit, I hate when he’s right.” Ohtori could barely make out the words as Shishido wiped his hands across his face. In the sun, Shishido’s hair looked more red than brown, which suited him nicely, Ohtori thought.

Ohtori moved out onto the porch, closing the door. He’d just stay out and watch Shishido-senpai for a little bit. Atobe wouldn’t mind; he knew how difficult Shishido could be. Ohtori’s hand moved to the object in his pocket. Maybe, since they were alone…maybe, he might be able to give Shishido his present.

 ** &-& **

“Move over, I can’t see,” Gakuto grumbled, shoving Oshitari out of the kitchen window. From the window, they could just see the spectacle outside. When Oshitari didn’t complain that he had been there first, Gakuto knew Yuushi was beating himself up inside. Served him right.

“We should get Atobe’s beverage and go back to the party.” Yuushi didn’t sound confident, like he was supposed to. He sounded like Jiroh when Atobe forgot his half-birthday. He was probably doing it because he knew it would make Gakuto feel guilty and then Gakuto would forgive him and they could go on being best friends. Well forget it, Gakuto didn’t need a best friend who made him feel seasick. It wasn’t like Yuushi cared anyway. If he cared, he would’ve noticed by now. Yuushi was just as stupid as Shishido was.

“I need new friends,” Gakuto grumbled to the frilly curtain he was holding a bit tighter than necessary. “I need new, smart friends.” He cast a look back to Oshitari. The other boy was watching him, eyes blank.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry for hitting Shishido?” Yuushi asked, his arms hanging at his sides. He really looked pathetic when he stood like that, which would usually annoy Gakuto- his doubles partner wasn’t pathetic- but, given the circumstances, only served to make the acrobatic player feel guilty.

“I don’t care about Shishido, you idiot.” There, that was blatant enough, wasn’t it? Yuushi could get it from there, couldn’t he?

“Then why are you upset with me?”

Gakuto balked. Yuushi really didn’t know. He really _didn’t_ get it. Gakuto had been dropping hints and acting like an idiot for a year and it was all for _nothing_ . “I’m not upset with you,” Gakuto sighed. Maybe Yuushi didn’t notice because he didn’t want to. Maybe he was being polite to save Gakuto some face. Yeah, that must be it. “Let’s get Atobe’s juice and get out of here.” Mechanically, Gakuto moved to the refrigerator. “Find one of those stupid wine glasses he likes to use.”

 ** &-& **

Atobe just _had_ to send Choutarou out, didn’t he? He just _had_ to meddle in Shishido’s life a little bit more. Shishido kicked a rock across the carport, grunting when it got caught in a crack in the cement and started to roll back. Shishido had hoped, when he heard the door close, that Ohtori was going back inside. No such luck. “Hey Ohtori, you don’t have to stay out here, you know. It’ll get dark soon and then the bugs will be out.” That sounded lame. Choutarou would never want to hang out with anyone who said lame things like that.

“Anou…Shishido-senpai..”

Shishido jumped and spun to find Ohtori was much closer than he had been a minute ago. “Gah! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” Shishido took a moment to catch his breath and marvel at how cute Choutarou was when he blushed. Choutarou shook his head and a stern expression settled on his features. It was the same face he made when Shishido was trying to teach him something during practice.

“Shishido-senpai, please accept this gift.” Ohtori pushed a package toward Shishido and, while Shishido knew that the proper thing would be to accept it, his mind was still trailing along with Ohtori’s words. A gift? For him?

“Thanks,” Shishido managed, taking the package with only slightly shaky hands. “Do I open it now or should I wait?” Shishido got gifts all the time. The girls at school sent him chocolates and other silly things- he had no qualms about opening those and tossing them in the nearest combustibles bin- but this was different. The small box Ohtori handed him was wrapped in a nice blue paper. The edges were rough, so Ohtori probably wrapped it himself. The package was still warm from Ohtori’s hands.

“If you would please open it now; if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” Ohtori’s eyes lowered to the ground and his blush deepened. “If you don’t like it, I’ve kept the receipt, but I…”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Choutarou.” As the words left his mouth, Shishido’s eyes went wide. He’d never called Ohtori by his given name, not when the younger boy was in earshot. Now Ohtori was going to be offended and- smiling, apparently.

“Please open it quickly Shishido-san, before Atobe sends someone out to get us.” There was no mistaking the grin on Ohtori’s face. Shishido had done something right. Maybe someday he’d even figure out what it was.

 ** &-& **

Gakuto and Oshitari returned from the kitchen with Atobe’s beverage. Gakuto looked like a kicked puppy and Oshitari looked ready to faint. Obviously they’d been counter-productive. Atobe removed his fingers from Jiroh’s hair, trailing one slowly down Jiroh’s cheek before lifting it completely. “Ore-sama was unaware that fetching a glass of juice was such a monumental task. This best be freshly squeezed.” Atobe took the glass from Oshitari and examined it. “No good.” He dumped it into the Christmas tree behind him. “Fetch ore-sama another. Freshly squeezed if you’re going to take a year to do it.”

Beside him, Jiroh wiggled and blinked. “My turn yet?” he yawned.

It was a feat of great willpower to keep his hand from running through Jiroh’s hair again. How could such tactile ecstasy be possible? Atobe looked down to Jiroh and frowned. “The gift opening is further delayed. Ohtori has not returned and our prize doubles team cannot synchronize themselves enough to obtain a mere glass of juice.” Carefully sliding his leg out of Jiroh’s loose grip, Atobe walked over to Oshitari. “Is there a hindrance ore-sama should be aware of?”

“There is no hindrance,” Oshitari replied, a little too stiffly.

“Ah?” Atobe raised a hand to his face, gazing at Oshitari with a feral grin. “Oh, ore-sama thinks there is a hindrance, Oshitari-kun.” Atobe’s hand moved slowly down as his arms folded over his chest. “Ore-sama thinks the hindrance is _you_.” Atobe turned to look at Gakuto. “Ore-sama will find you another doubles partner, Mukahi-kun; one that is smart enough to know his own mind.” Atobe returned to his seat, glad that Jiroh refrained from cuddling up to his side- it would ruin the effect. “Now, ore-sama’s juice. Go.”

The pair left, Gakuto white as a sheet and Oshitari red as a tomato. Atobe looked to Jiroh when he felt something warm engulf his hand. Jiroh was holding it. “Ne Keigo, that was mean.”

“It was needed,” was the reply as Atobe removed his hand from the warm cocoon of Jiroh’s grasp. “Now, ore-sama must entertain his guests until our wayward children return.”

 ** &-& **

Oshitari was unaccustomed to being accused of ignorance. He was equally unaccustomed to feeling as though said accusations were true. Something was going on and someone, probably Gakuto, had neglected to inform Oshitari about it. He entered the kitchen and leaned against the center island, frowning at the refrigerator. Gakuto could squeeze his Highness’ juice. Oshitari was of the mind to lace it with rat poison, which would earn him a swift death at the hands of Jiroh. Leaning against the counter and brooding was, therefore, the safest option.

He took a deep breathe and ran over his most recent conversation with Gakuto. A few facts were key to understanding why his doubles partner still wasn’t speaking with him. One, Gakuto, while friends with Shishido (why Oshitari could never understand), was not upset about Oshitari having hit Shishido. Two, Gakuto was, while angry, still willing to be in the same room with Oshitari, even if it was under Atobe’s orders. Three…three…damn, he couldn’t think clearly, not with Gakuto making those cute little noises of frustration as he stretched up to reach a cup.

“We can’t play doubles this way.” Gakuto’s voice was oddly stern. The acrobatic player started cramming things into a juicer and making a grand mess.

Oshitari moved over to wipe a few strawberry seeds off of Gakuto’s nose. “Can’t play doubles how?” There were several reasons why their doubles partnership was in peril, the topmost being that Gakuto wasn’t speaking to him.

“You’re all moody, and I’m mad at you, only I’m not mad at you; I’m just upset because you’re so damn smart and you can’t even figure out that I like you.” Gakuto quickly turned back to his juicing while Oshitari forgot how to breathe.

 ** &-& **

Jiroh wanted to be by Atobe, but the diva was busy keeping his guests from wondering why the presents weren’t being opened so they could leave. It was already five and the sun was going to be gone any minute. The four romance-challenged idiots had been gone half an hour and Atobe hadn’t opened Jiroh’s gift. The volley specialist was getting impatient.

“Hey Atobe, they’re not coming back. Just open my present!” It came out a little more petulant than Jiroh would have liked, but nobody in the room really cared. Jiroh moved from his spot next to Atobe’s chair to where the boy stood near a large silver beverage fountain. Grabbing a firm hold of Atobe’s arm, Jiroh pulled until Atobe was moving toward his throne and Kabaji was covered in the punch from Atobe’s now empty cup.

“Jiroh, ore-sama does not appreciate being dragged.” Atobe shook his arm free but continued toward his chair, signaling for his butler. “Ore-sama will open Jiroh’s gift, then the rest of you will be free to go.” A snap, and everything was in motion.

 ** &-& **

The barrettes really weren’t anything special, just silver bobby-pins, but Shishido-senpai seemed to like them. When he opened the package, he smiled and slipped them into his hair. There were three, as Shishido-senpai always had trouble with three particular strands of hair. Ohtori hoped that Shishido would think he was observant and not obsessive.

“Thanks Ohtori, these are great.” Shishido looked toward the house, opened his mouth to say something, then turned around to face the driveway again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s okay Shishido-senpai, I don’t need anything.” In truth, Ohtori would’ve settled for a kiss under the mistletoe, but Shishido’s violent reaction showed that he was clearly not interested in Ohtori that way. It was sad, but not unexpected.

“I know, I just wanted to get you something, but I couldn’t figure out what.” Shishido sounded frustrated and he was coiling a finger around his hair- the most obvious of his nervous habits. Ohtori knew all twelve habits, down to the rapid-blink-six-times habit. “I tried for a few days to think of something, but I couldn’t. Guess that makes me a bad senpai, huh?”

“Oh no, you’re a great senpai!” What made Shishido-senpai think that way? Did Ohtori say something to indicate that Shishido was a bad senpai? Best just to correct the mistake and not worry. Well, Ohtori would worry, just not when Shishido-senpai was around to watch. “You’ve helped me with my techniques when you didn’t have to, and you kept my classmate from making fun of me.”

“Choutarou, I hit him and threatened to break his arm. I don’t think that helped your image any.” Shishido was covering his face with his off-hand. It was his third of eighteen gestures when he was blaming himself for something.

“You _helped_ senpai, and I…I wouldn’t want an image that didn’t allow for you to be there.” It was Ohtori’s turn to turn away, embarrassed. Ohtori talked about Shishido-senpai a lot, but he’d never said anything with such blatant adoration. Shishido was going to think he was a freak, like that third year girl who followed him around for a month, asking him out daily. They had had to cancel their special practice session that month because of her. She was one of few people that made Ohtori feel violent. Given the chance, he would still “accidentally” hit her with a high-speed tennis ball.

“Yeah, me too, I guess.” Shishido’s head was turned to the ground and he was kicking at nothing.

“Shishido-senpai, you’re going to wear out your shoes unevenly again,” Ohtori warned. This was Shishido’s third pair this semester and Shishido had asked that Ohtori stop him from sending this pair to an early retirement. Ohtori would keep his promise, particularly since it gave him a reason to closely observe his senpai.

Shishido stopped kicking the dirt and commenced folding his arms over his chest and tapping his finger on his forearm. “So, what I’m trying to say is,” he scratched the back of his head, looking up at the sky, “do you wanna go do something sometime? Something not tennis?”

Ohtori stared. He didn’t know what else to do. It sounded like Shishido-senpai was asking him on a date, only this was Shishido-senpai so there was no chance of that being the case. “That would be nice, senpai.” It wasn’t a date, but Ohtori would take what he could get. Any extra time with Shishido was worth it.

“Right, good, yeah, so…where do you wanna go?” Shishido was blushing and looking nervously to the house and back. “We could go see a movie or something, I guess. I’m not really good at all this dating stuff, so you’re gonna have to help me out a bit…”

Ohtori stopped listening and instead focused in on the word “date” ringing in the back of his head. He knew a thousand places he and Shishido could go because he’d thought about his first date with Shishido too many times to count. Usually they would play tennis and go to a noodle house or just for coffee.

“…hey, you listening?”

“Sorry Shishido-senpai, I was thinking. We could see a movie and go get coffee?” That was the safest bet. He would let Shishido pick the movie, probably some sort of action film. Ohtori wasn’t much for action films, preferring documentaries or historical films, but he could make an exception this one time.

Shishido looked to the house and back again, this time his eyes focusing a bit before returning to look Ohtori in the eye. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Yes senpai?”

Another look toward the house. “Don’t call me senpai. It makes me feel weird.”

Ohtori followed Shishido’s gaze and saw what his senpai was frowning at. Hiyoshi was watching them from the drawing room window. Ohtori would talk with Hiyoshi later. Shishido was more important. “I can do that Shishido-san, but one condition.” Ohtori looked back to the window again. This was going to hurt Hiyoshi, he knew, but it would also get him to move on. Also, Ohtori was feeling selfish. “I…I believe you owe me a kiss Shishido-san.” The blush was never going to come off of Ohtori’s cheeks. Ohtori bowed his head to keep Shishido from seeing.

A shaky hand turned Ohtori’s chin up and, before he could fully open his tightly shut eyes, a sakura-soft whisp of warmth floated across the corner of his mouth. Seconds later, the hand was gone and Shishido was walking toward the house with his hands in his pockets. “Come on Choutarou, Atobe’s not going to wait for us much longer.”

“Hai sen…Shishido-san.”

 ** &-& **

Atobe was still unwrapping Jiroh’s gift when Shishido and Ohtori wandered in, both pink as pomegranates. Atobe was taking extra care in unwrapping Jiroh’s gift as Jiroh’s was the most ornate and, being from Jiroh, was particularly special. While it was unseemly to show too much outward affection toward the boy, Atobe was willing to give in to his impulses on small things. No one would notice if he snuck a corner of the wrapping paper to save. No one was actually watching him unwrap the gift anyway; they were staring off like the herd of cattle that they were. Be that as it may, they were Atobe’s cattle and, as their future leader, it was important to team unity that he and his future regulars attended these ridiculously monotonous functions. Propriety was discipline, and Hyoutei was held together by a precarious mix of discipline and money; both of which were supplied in great quantity by Atobe.

“I see we didn’t miss anything,” Shishido grumbled, earning him a very noticeable arm in the side by Ohtori. The little freshman was getting bolder; something functional must’ve happened during the hour the two spent outside.

“Shishido-san means he’s sorry for the delay, Atobe-senpai.” Ohtori smiled through is apology while Shishido glared at him. Yes, something definitely happened. Atobe would have to Insight it later. Right now was Jiroh’s time.

“Atobe’s unwrapping my present, then you can go.” Jiroh’s eyes were wide open and he was smiling through his teeth. This was his little way of telling everyone to beat a hasty retreat when Atobe was finished opening the gift. Atobe found it terribly embarrassing and as obvious as stating, “I want some alone time with Atobe, so leave,” through a megaphone.

“Where are Mukahi-senpai and Oshitari-senpai,” Ohtori asked, looking around the room.

“They are making out in the kitchen,” Atobe informed, quietly delighting in the sudden gasps across the room. “By ore-sama’s estimation they have overcome their little argument and are once again operating as a proper doubles team.” At least Atobe hoped they were operating functionally again. He’d kill them both if they waste the wonderful opportunity he gave them.

 ** &-& **

Gakuto smacked Oshitari over the head with a roll of paper towels. “Don’t scare me like that!” Oshitari was no longer blue, and was breathing properly, but Gakuto had wanted their first kiss to be special and perfectly staged and _not_ mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Oshitari gave a goofy smile and continued to breathe deeply. “Sorry,” he managed after a bit. He was standing now, though shakily, and leaning against the counter.

“Do you faint every time someone says they like you or were you just so overcome with disgust that you couldn’t breathe?” Gakuto didn’t want to talk about his rash declaration, but there was an awkward semi-silence between them and it rankled. They might as well dissolve their doubles pair and get it over with. Gakuto could go to the volleyball team. They needed people. “Look, I’m sorry if it freaks you out, but I like you. A lot. I thought you’d get it after a while, like you do with those stupid girls who follow you around all the time,” Gakuto _hated_ those girls, “but you’re really not so observant for a tensai, ya know.”

“Gakuto, I…”

No, no; Yuushi couldn’t talk. That would break Gakuto’s heart. Gakuto would rather break his own heart than have Yuushi do it. “So it’s okay if we can’t play doubles anymore. I was thinking of going to the volleyball team anyway,” Gakuto wasn’t too fond of the sport, but they’d appreciate him and he’d be good at it, “so don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll just go say goodbye to Atobe and we can tell him about it later and..”

“Will you shut up?” Oshitari moved quickly, sliding behind Gakuto and placing a hand lightly over his mouth. “It is impossible for me to tell you that I like you too if you continue to interrupt me.” Oshitari’s hold tightened slightly and his breath was falling harder on Gakuto’s ear. “Now, I believe we’re standing under some mistletoe and I owe you a kiss for saving my life.” Oshitari turned Gakuto around, or he moved around- Gakuto wasn’t sure which. In fact, in years to come he wouldn’t remember much of that first real kiss under the mistletoe, just that he had felt something warm and wonderful and that there were lights, lots of pretty lights, dancing in his vision.

 ** &-& **

Finally, everyone was gone! Jiroh watched Atobe wish the last party-goers well, the feather boa around Atobe’s neck swaying slightly in the evening breeze. Atobe hadn’t taken Jiroh’s gift off since the volley specialist had placed it there immediately after the gift was unwrapped. Occasionally, Jiroh caught Atobe rubbing his cheek against the feathers. “Hey Atobe, can I stay over?”

Atobe looked slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly. He entered the entertaining room and pulled Jiroh up from the couch. “Ore-sama would not be opposed.” Jiroh delighted when Atobe allowed him to keep their hands entwined. “Ore-sama expects you to maintain your status as singles two. If you do not, ore-sama will revoke your privileges.”

Jiroh moved closer to Atobe, resting his head on purple feathers. “Do you like my present?”

“Yes.” Atobe stepped away a bit. He just needed to get used to the closeness, Jiroh reasoned. He’d give Atobe time, like always, to adapt.

“Hey Keigo, can you tell me a bit more about these privileges?” He gave Atobe’s hand a squeeze.

“Jiroh, ore-sama is tired and does not wish to make contracts at this hour. We will discuss this in the morning.” Atobe held Jiroh’s hand just a bit firmer.

“Do you want me to make waffles in the morning?”

“Ore-sama has a cook.”

“But do you want me to make them? I can bring them up before you wake up.”

“That would be- pleasant. Ore-sama approves.”

Jiroh smiled and sounded his agreement with a little kitten pur. He began to go over the things he’d need for Atobe’s breakfast meal. Eggs, milk, and mistletoe were the key ingredients.


End file.
